Army Vet learns it's never too late to be true to yourself at Madison VA

I can remember when I was six years old being attracted to men. There was an older guy who smoked a pipe, and he looked like Sherlock Holmes. I couldn't take my eyes off him. My mom said, "What are you looking at?" and jerked my hand away.

I’m originally from Lancaster, Wisconsin, born and raised there. I was kind of nerdy when I was in high school. I always loved big band music and most of my friends were into rock and roll. My dad and mom got divorced when I was five or six. I didn't know my dad very much growing up. My mom raised us three kids and did without to keep us in shoes and other stuff.

When I was ten my mom had a nervous breakdown. They came and got her in the ambulance. She had a sheet around her and a towel over her head. They were lifting her up into the ambulance. The wind was blowing, and the towel blew off. I ran over, picked it up, and put it back over her forehead. I could hear her breathing, but she didn't say anything.

My two sisters and I were put into the foster care system. Luckily, we were all placed with one family, and we lived off and on with them in between my mom’s breakdowns. My sister Gloria is the oldest and Donna is the middle child. They're both still alive but . . . we don't get along too good because of my lifestyle. Gloria always used to tell me I was going to hell. You probably know the saying: "You can choose your friends, but not your family."

I joined the Army in May of '69. My mom and I got into an argument. My cousin stopped by and he'd had an argument with his wife. We wound up at the Army recruiter's office and we both signed up.

I did my AIT training in Fort Gordon, Georgia. I was infantry. They let me go just before my two years were up. It was an honorable discharge but, in their words, I was "Unable to Adjust to Military Life."

I met Bill in July of 1978. Like a lot of relationships, we weren't looking for each other - it just happened. I was on a bus passing through Indianapolis and I got off to look around. I walked into a restaurant and there he was. He was taking care of his 90-year-old Aunt Helen at the time. They lived in a small town 40 miles north of Indianapolis.

Bill and I were both stubborn, both a Taurus. When we got in our first argument, we didn't talk for a couple days. When I came back, he looked me straight in the eye and said, " Michael, I don't know if I can live with another man. But since I've been with you, I could never live without you."

Bill was a World War II Vet, and we would go to the VA together. He'd get uptight sometimes when I went there on my own. When I got back, he'd ask, "You didn't tell anybody, did you?" Bill and I were a couple, but everybody knew him as my uncle. I went along with this, out of respect for him.

For 35 years I lived a lie.

Towards the end Bill was pretty sick and he got Alzheimer's. It got to the point where he stopped recognizing me. He ended up in a nursing home, but he was only there about a month. I was with him the night he passed away. I leaned over to him and held his hand and I said, "Bill, I'll take care of Baxter [his cat] for you and I love you." It was probably the only time I saw a tear in his eye. I was by myself after that.

After a while, I moved back to Wisconsin because my sister Donna had a couple strokes. My older sister Gloria told me, "No worries, you can stay with me." I was there a little over a week before we got into an argument about me being gay and she kicked me out, using some rather colorful language.

I slept in my truck for a couple nights after that in the Walmart parking lot. Then I got hooked up with the Homeless Veterans and Transitional Housing program in Janesville. I was staying with them for a few months before I found out that I had lymphoma.

Something amazing happened when I came up to Madison for treatment. There was a little lady doctor in hematology and she asked me, "What brought you up here?" I told her, "Well, I took care of my Uncle Bill for 35 years. He passed away and I moved up here after that." I don't know why to this day, but she looked at me and smiled. [starts crying] It was like she could tell.

She said, "Michael, isn't there something you're not telling me?" I started bawling. I was shaking so bad. I told her, "You're right. Bill was my partner." She gave me a big hug and said, "Michael, that doesn't matter, we love everybody."

The Madison VA has just been so good to me. Everyone from housekeeping to the nurses and doctors have always been so kind and compassionate. They really changed my life. I’m too old to worry about what other people think of me at this point, but I hope that other LGBTQ+ Veterans know that the Madison VA is a safe place for them to get the health care they earned and deserve.

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